12 Days of Sterek
by Natsu Naito
Summary: Sterek - A set of ficlets ranging from 100-1000 words long, based around the Christmas season. Full of fluff and slight angst.
1. First Day

**author's note**: So, I decided to do a little Christmas ficlet set. They'll likely range between 100-1000 words long, and I'm open to requests! This prompt was given to me by my best friend, Beekah.

* * *

**Oh, Christmas Tree**

* * *

Derek wasn't sure of how he had ended up staring at an overly-large Christmas tree in his living room, garland around his shoulders and strands of tinsel shimmering in his hair.

Well, actually, he was. And the one to blame was none other than Stiles Stilinski; the cause of this was currently fumbling through the boxes of holiday ornaments and decorations, letting out a complaint here or there about how the sourwolf really needed to take things out of the attic and maybe clean up now and then - unluckily for him, he had quite a lot of cobwebs on his plaid shirt and shaven head.

The werewolf hadn't touched any of this since the fire, and the only reason they had anything was because it had been kept in a shed out back. After the catastrophe, Derek had silently shoved everything in the attic, never venturing up there again. He had planned to let them rot there, a painful memory that only stayed because he couldn't part from the smiles and laughter that accompanied each item.

"There, now ya almost look normal, sourwolf!" The teen declared as he plugged the cords in for the finishing touch. Light filled the corner the tree had been placed in, the aged star gleaming faintly atop the haphazard mess. A fire hazard, Derek had pointed out in the very beginning, only to be shushed by Stiles.

Only when the human left did the corner of Derek's lips pull upward, quietly taking in the sight before heading off to bed.


	2. Second Day

**author's note**: Another prompt from my friend. Hope you enjoy! (Remember, if you have anything in mind for a next prompt, feel free to tell me!

* * *

**Snowball Fight**

* * *

Derek should have known Stiles and Scott were up to something when they insisted he get out of the house and come outside. He should have known to be wary when he heard the laughter and whispers while nearing the door; but the werewolf didn't want feel like tuning in on the words at the moment, having just woken up to the shouts of the two friends. And he should have known that on the day of the first real snow, he shouldn't step outside.

The moment he opened the door, mouth open to yell at the two for disturbing him so early, he was pelted with a snowball directly in the face and one on his chest. Slowly, threateningly, the man wiped the insulting, frozen mess off of his face, shaking his hand as he glared at the two.

"What was the point behind that?" He growled through gritted teeth, eyes still narrowed as he took in the two teens. Scott seemed to be rethinking the plan, but Stiles ignored the aura rolling off the alpha, throwing another snowball at him. It was dodged, but it served it's point. They weren't going down without a fight.

Rather than attacking the two, some part of Derek decided he would play along. It had been a long time since he had taken a moment to enjoy any fun the snow might bring; more often, he had cursed the snow - it was a whole lot easier to track in the snow than in the dry ground. Leaning down as if to transform and attack the prey, his hands quickly gathered a ball of snow, and Stiles was hit square in the face.

With that retaliation, a full on war was incited.

In the end, the three were collapsed on the ground. Scott hadn't managed to escape before getting pelted by both the alpha and the human, and he had taken down his flag of surrender and joined in the fight. As their breaths evened out, Stiles moved slightly closer to Derek, resting his head atop the older man's chest.

"My head's cold," he quickly murmured in response to the raised eyebrows. Not bothering to argue with the teen, the werewolf closed his eyes, unaffected by the chill surrounding them. The three soon fell asleep - most certainly an odd sight for any unfortunate traveler that happened to discover them.


	3. Third Day

**author's note**: Once again, a prompt from my friend. (She really loves Sterek.) I wrote this at my friend's party, so it's probably pretty far from my best.

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**Sledding**

* * *

Generally, going down a hill at increasingly fast speeds would be a piece of cake. After all, Derek was a werewolf, and he was used to running places quicker than humanly possible. Speed and danger was no problem - he had been close to death how many times? - but that was because he was in control of almost every situation. He had a plan, a strategy. He knew what to do and knew what to do to get out of bad situations.

But speeding down a hill with Stiles on a flimsy plastic sled, heading straight for a tree, was not a situation he could do anything about. The man in his signature leather jacket was at a loss, not having done something like this for years. Stiles was no better, even as he struggled to shift this way and that. Apparently, the teen had used the sled far too much, and as such the string they were using to direct themselves had promptly snapped.

Derek blamed Stiles. If not for the pesky boy, they would not be in this situation. They would not be heading headfirst into a tree, and they would not die in one of the most pathetic situations a werewolf could die in.

A growl ripping through his throat as he realized that there would be no other option, Derek transformed, fur ripping out of his skin as he took the hood of Stiles' coat in his sharp jaws, leaping from the sled that moments later collided with rough bark, snapping into various pieces.

"About time," Stiles remarked with a smirk as he was set down, the wolf laying down next to him. He didn't feel like changing back; in fact, he was contemplating attacking the human beside him, if only he wouldn't regret it when he thought it over the next night. Ignoring the clearly questionable look in Derek's eyes, the teen slumped over the wolf, hands grasping the fur as he got comfortable.

"We should do that again!"

"...Not happening."


	4. Fourth Day

**author's note**: My shortest chapter. I wasn't really feeling the prompt, I guess, but I did what I could. Thank you for all the favs and follows, by the way! Throw me a prompt and I'll see what I can do with it. :)

* * *

**Christmas Cookies**

* * *

Derek found out a few things when he went over Stiles house.

One: The teen was very messy, the evidence lying around the kitchen and even in the living room. Spoons and bowls and flour were scattered here and there, and it seemed as if he had decided to crack eggs for the mixture while watching tv because there were still egg shells on the table.

Two: He seemed to have never grown out of shaped Christmas cookies. On the counter there were tons of cookie-cutters, all varying shapes and sizes. The preferred one seemed to be the snowman, though the sled shaped cutter was next - he wouldn't have been able to tell were it not for the tons of aforementioned shaped cookies stacked on the counter, stove, and even in the microwave. Stiles had gone on a cookie frenzy.

And three: Even through the sarcastic comments (including some mention about how next time he'd make dog biscuits if he didn't like these cookies) and attempts at brushing off his worry, Derek could tell that the teen was worried about whether it would appeal to the werewolf. And they did, in fact, though the man would never admit how much. So, in answer to the boy's silent questions, he shrugged slightly, a smirk quirking the corner of his lips, the only words he offered being,

"They're better than dog biscuits."


	5. Fifth Day

**author's note:** Just a warning, there's probably a bit of oocness in this one. I'm tired and kinda wanna just nap, but I woulda felt bad if I didn't update it on the right day!

* * *

**Presents**

* * *

"Well?"

"...Well?"

Stiles huffed, crossing his arms and jerking his head towards the presents under the tree. "Open yours first!"

"You open yours." Narrowing his eyes slightly, as if thinking his glare would win this battle, Derek kept his gaze on the teen. It was Christmas afternoon - that morning Stiles had been at his dad's house, Derek reflecting on his family - and they had yet to open the presents they had gotten each other. Both were far too stubborn, and it didn't seem as if they were going to settle the feud any time soon.

"What's the big deal with opening your present first, Sourwolf?! Get into the holiday spirit already!"

"I could say the same to you."

Another impatient huff. "I've already opened some from my dad and Scott. You need to experience some joy."

"...Why don't we just open it together?" The werewolf finally said, and though he was trying to reach a middle ground, his glare had still not lessened. This wasn't him losing, it was him being reasonable and rational.

Nodding his head in agreement, Stiles bent down to pick up his present, grabbing Derek's and shoving it at his leather-covered chest. They both counted to three under their breath before opening their gifts.

In Stiles hands were a headband with wolf shaped ears on them and a fake tail. A small note was thrown in with them: 'Now you can pretend to be part of the back.' It was dripping with sarcasm, no doubt, but it was still nothing compared to the gift in the werewolf's hands.

A bag of sugar and a dog toy.

"Sugar to counteract your sourness, and something fun for you to do when you're bored," the human commented with a grin, having only a split second after saying this to dart from the room before Derek had attacked him. Or, before he thought Derek would attack him. Instead, the man was simply looking at the gift with raised eyebrows, chuckling slightly.

An interesting Christmas, indeed.


	6. Sixth Day

**author's note**: Unfortunately, I really have no idea about any Christmas decorations and what the can/can't do, nor their variety. My family hasn't ever been the type to do much. :l

* * *

**Months of Bills**

* * *

Stiles had thought of many things that Derek apparently needed for the holiday.

They included a tree, new lights, an entire Santa and reindeer set to go atop the roof, yard decorations, and even light-up candy canes to surround the house. He paid no heed to the complaints that the werewolf wanted to remain inconspicuous, he enjoyed dark and simple things, and he really didn't want to celebrate Christmas. When the teen decided on something, he would do it, not bothering to listen to the objections (unless he was telling Derek that he was far too much like the Grinch).

The only thing Stiles didn't seem to think of, however, was the fact that all of this stuff had to be paid for, and he had promised to pay three-fourths of the final amount because it had been his idea in the first place. The realization that it would be months before it was all done with was something that almost made him regret his decision.

But not quite; the look on the werewolf's face when the Santa started singing one of the many Christmas songs programmed into him was priceless.


	7. Seventh Day

**author's note**: My friend seems to have a never-ending supply of prompts for me, so this is another one of her's. Enjoy!

* * *

**Snowman**

* * *

"What's the point of building a snowman?" Derek questioned slightly irritably as he watched Stiles from the porch. The teen was currently walking around the yard, pushing a measly ball of snow in an attempt to get it to grow larger. It wasn't working very well, but whenever the werewolf suggested he give up, he would get a snarky reply about how this was fun and he needed to added the word to his dictionary.

"It's fun," he repeated, and the older man had lost count of how many times he had heard that today. "And," continuing, the teen smirked at him, "I'm going to make it look like you, complete with grumpy expression and all."

"I do not have a grumpy expression."

"Yes, you do."

"No, I don't."

"So you're saying you naturally look constipated, Sourwolf?"

A vein in Derek's head ticked at the response, and rather than continuing the petty word battle, he moved off the porch easily, approaching Stiles in a way that made the human slightly nervous.

Not long later, Derek was sitting on the steps, a pleased smirk curling his lips. "You're right. Making a snowman was fun," he commented, eyes on the pile of snow that the younger male happened to be encased in. Though he would have to pay for it later, offering him hot chocolate - which Stiles had decided to stock the Hale kitchen with himself - and blankets, he was content merely looking at his creation.

Who said the werewolf didn't know how to have fun?


	8. Eighth Day

**author's note**: Sorry, guys! I was supposed to upload this yesterday, but I was out shopping for most of the day. Nine should be up a bit later! Also, thank you for your reviews/comments, _bombon_~ :3

* * *

**Christmas Company**

* * *

Stiles had always had his dad for Christmas, and though it had seemed empty the few years after the death of his mom, it had become comfortable and nice. Sometimes, his family and Scott's would share the day; needless to say, he wasn't ever truly lonely on Christmas.

This year, Scott was with Allison and his dad had work (at least, that's what he said, though Stiles was beginning to wonder if there was a lady friend that he hadn't been told about yet). Right after presents and morning coffee, he was bid farewell with a large number of sincere apologies. The teen didn't hold it against his dad or his friend, but as he looked out the window on Christmas day, he realized that he didn't feel like being alone.

So he did the first thing that came to mind and went to the house of someone he knew was _always _alone.

"Derek! Open up the door already, I'm freezing!" A tightly curled fist pounded against the door, fingers desperately trying to maintain warmth. In hindsight, the boy probably should have called ahead to make sure the werewolf really was at home, but it was a spur of the moment decision. Besides, where else would the guy be?

Just as Stiles was about to slam into the door, it flung open - resulting in the teen flinging himself into the owner of the home and sending them tumbling to the floor in an sprawling heap of tangled limbs.

"...What are you doing?" The man all but growled, eyes narrowing at the younger male.

Looking up to meet his gaze, Stiles merely flashed a grin. "Keeping you from being lonely on another Christmas, Sourwolf!"

And, after Stiles wormed his way out of being werewolf food, the two managed to have a semi-pleasant day; and loneliness had not been present at all.


	9. Ninth Day

**author's note**: Argh, late again! I tried to write yesterday, but I was hit with a big ol' block. So, here it is, and I'll try my very best to catch up and put 10 up later.

* * *

**Stockings**

* * *

"If you already have presents under the tree, what's the point of putting things in stockings?"

It was rapidly nearing Christmas, and Stiles had wondered when the werewolf would question such things. He was sure that in his childhood they must have used stockings (after all, it was holiday tradition!), but it seemed as if he just enjoyed being difficult.

"You just do, that's all. I mean, there was probably some meaning way back when," emphasizing his point with a twist of his hand, as if gesturing back to a time when Christmas meant something more than gift-giving, Stiles then continued, "but now it's just something you do. And it's something that people don't question 'cause there's not point in questioning." He looked at Derek with narrowed but playful eyes, wondering if he had won that easily but knowing it was hard to ever truly win when playing with the werewolf.

As if taking a moment to think, said werewolf was currently looking at the stockings, brow furrowed as if trying to remember something from the past he had violently shoved out of his memories. "...stockings are for putting coal in," he finally said, looking at Stiles.

"...huh?"

"When I was young, the only reason we had stockings was because we were threatened that it was going to be a Christmas sock full of coal, or the presents." He crossed his arms, furrowing his brow. "One year, I actually got the coal."

For a minute, it was silent. Eyes met for a second before the teen was suddenly filling the silence with laughter. Derek said nothing, simply leaving the room as Stiles continued to find hilarity at the story.

His laughter died somewhat when the werewolf returned with a handful of coal, putting it in the stocking that had been assigned to Stiles.


	10. Tenth Day

**author's note:** Woo, my first drabble! (Which may or may not have come from the fact that I'm terrible at staying on schedule and was trying not to be yet another day left behind.)

* * *

**Punishment**

* * *

A human and a werewolf. It really was a combination that wasn't meant to happen, that shouldn't have happened, yet there the two stood having one of their many squabbles. This one, it seemed, stemmed from the fact that Christmas lights had been strewn across the floor - apparently, the werewolf had woken up and needed to use the restroom, stretching as he walked and forgetting about the lights that had been hung everywhere and tearing them down by accident.

In punishment, Stiles stood with arms crossed as he watched Derek hang double the lights that had been torn down.


	11. Eleventh Day

**author's note**: Ehh, this didn't turn out very well, so I'm sorry to cosmicloathe for kinda screwing up the prompt. (I've yet to actually watch all the seasons for myself, so I have no idea how Erica would act.) Also, I apologize for posting this so late!

* * *

**Christmas Party**

* * *

"I'm pleased with how close-knit the pack has become," Derek commented quietly, observing the members of their thrown together family. After succeeding in convincing (more like begging, in the alpha's opinion) the werewolf to host a holiday party, Stiles was now hovering near him, just as happy about the pack as the older male was.

"It's all thanks to me, man." Stiles believed it completely - after all, who else would have been able to make this gathering happen? Though he wasn't a werewolf, it had been made clear that he was still one of them, and it meant a lot to the teen.

Raising an eyebrow at the statement, the man was about to respond when a nearby noise distracted him; Erica was nearly giggling to herself, finding something quite hilarious. Brows furrowing, Derek cleared his throat, immediately making her grow silent. However, in response to his questioning (and threatening) glare, she merely pointed at the space above his and Stiles' heads, another giggle escaping her lips before she clamped a hand across her mouth.

Above them hung none other than mistletoe.

"..._Who_ hung that there?" The words were a soft growl, the violence suppressing any embarrassment or other unwelcome feeling from making themselves known. Just as he turned an accusing gaze onto the male next to him, expecting to meet a sheepish and guilty look, he was instead met with a sudden kiss.

Stunned silence. A silence that remained unbroken until an awkward cough, clearly trying to kill the stalemate everyone was at. "I, uh, may have hung that," Scott admitted, rubbing the back of his head - it was most likely meant for him and Allison, though Derek was sure he could wrestle the truth out of him later.

For now, the alpha smirked dangerously before returning the human's kiss; if they were going to hang such things in his house, than the guests would have to suffer the consequence and endure the display.


	12. Twelfth Day

**author's note**: The final piece of this story! Though this is pretty late, I really enjoyed this entire thing; It as a challenge at times, but in the end, it was really rewarding. Thank you so very much for you faves, follows, and reviews, and if you have any requests for more Sterek, please feel free to message me~ Finally, I hope you enjoy! Happy Holidays~

* * *

**Family**

* * *

Christmas spent beside a grave.

Generally, it wasn't the way most people would spend their holidays. Then again, Stiles and Derek had never exactly fit into the general population and neither made much of an effort to. So, unperturbed (save for the frustration of holiday traffic), the two made their way from one cemetery to the other.

The first grave they visited belonged to Stiles' mom. There was an unspoken agreement of the order they would go in, and it so happened that the teen's relation was first. They sat in the snow, uncaring of how their pants were soon soaked through and their skin cold. They sat, thighs touching each other as they held a conversation. It was calm, peaceful, sobering.

After spending time at the first grave, the pair made their way to the next. The cemetery wasn't quite as nice, nor were the gravestones, but it was pleasant nonetheless. Pleasant, but not nearly as peaceful as the first visit.

Here, Stiles took the moment to talk animatedly to Derek's deceased family, cracking jokes and filling the air with a lightness that hadn't ever been known to be in a cemetery. And, while hardly anyone would risk doing such a thing, it seemed to fit the moment perfectly, as the last piece of a puzzle perfectly slides into place.

When they returned home, they had no words to share about the day; rather, the two sat on the couch in the coming darkness, leaning against one another and just focusing on the fact that though they had lost so much, they had somehow found one another.


End file.
